


Wonder

by nonamehux (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 16:49:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4674137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/nonamehux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He looks down at you. He looks down and those eyes are the last piece in your destruction, you'll swear on that six ways to Sunday.<br/>You wonder what you did to deserve that look.</p><p>[Has been edited 8/29/15]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wonder

**Author's Note:**

> There was a lack of recent, good brodave I decided to help.

The color of a low burning candle that's what his eyes are. They match the flame and ignite your bones accordingly. His fingers are like matchsticks, they drag across your skin and leaves a fire. His hands all over you. 

The uneven springs of the futon dig into your muscles, but the weight of Dirk's body over yours is a comfort. Overshadowed you are. His body is bigger, stronger. Always a step ahead of you. All you get is this. The touch of his hands on your waist and the aching in your core. Dirk gives you too much, and you're too greedy as is. A lick of your lips to entice him, attempts to be burnt to ash by him. He is fire and you crave being covered in his flames. Your name curling off his tongue, Dirk makes it sound like something worthy. 

You know how he sounds, the sounds in daily life, but also as he tears you apart. You fall to the seams of your existence when he touches you. Nights and days of burning. The ache inside you quelled by him. The slap of skin on skin as his hips meet yours in a frantic rhythm. Dirk searches for release and you for peace.  
You wonder if this is love. 

You wonder if you're the only one who he touches. You wonder about the loud, strobe lighted clubs, and if his gloved hands stay only on spinning records. You never go with him, too young, but also he's never offered. He always comes home to you which must account for something. 

When Dirk comes home the next night you press your nose to him, inhaling his scent and exhaling when that's the only one there. He kisses you rough. His lips not made for the soft, gentle kisses of your peers, but weathered and scarred. Your own are chapped and torn from sharp teeth, a cheap mockery. 

Your hands perch on his cotton covered shoulders as his mouth marks the skin of your neck, the weight of his hand on the small of your back makes you moan. 'Dirk, Dirk,Dirk' Its the only thing on your mind and you want more. More is when his hands push up your shirt, those burning fingers fitting in the hollows of your ribs. The doorway is discarded, and the prickly discomfort of futon is what replaces it. 

 

You gasp in uneven breaths. Your heart and blood rushing block out sound, and your eyes flutter closed as he explores you. The familiar touches aren't enough, but you relish in the way Dirk handles you. The grip on you strong and firm, but his actions laden with care, gentleness of a lover. You wonder if he loves you.

Your mind is lost in the waves of pleasure as he divests you of your clothes, and leaves marks along all the newly exposed flesh. You want Dirk to swallow you whole. You want to crawl inside his skin. You want to be apart of him because he has always been greater than you. 

When his hands are too busy for your skin you ache, but the stretch burns enough. It's worth the wait. When he touches you again it's to focus you. Your red eyes never leave his, despite the urge to simply sink into the sea of pleasure waiting behind your closed lids. Dirk leans over you, his hips pressed against yours and you reach nirvana.The feeling is better than you remembered, and you aren't sure how you could ever live without this. You start talking, your mouth vomiting up meaningless words and pathetic pleas. Dirk silences you with his mouth on yours, and he moves. You could swear that the universe changed, the constellations were shaken up and made anew. He pushes into you again, harder this time and your nails snag on the warm skin of his shoulder. His freckled shoulder. You think that maybe he is the universe, the freckles are his stars, and the jagged scars from swords are galaxies. 

 

His hips shift the next time, and you let out a small sob of his name. His voice cuts through all the chaos and you immerse yourself in a fire that you shouldn't be allowed to receive warmth from. His hand curls in your hair the same moment his hips roll up, a delicious curl of strength, into you. You wrap your legs around him and try to pull him closer, your gangly limbs look like they truly fit there. With the next thrust, hard and deep, your uncut nails drag across his skin. He doesn't stop, he keeps on his track of breaking you down and your nails leave dark red lines in tanned flesh.

When the tension inside of you grows,and the tightly bound coil of pleasure snaps you're thrown out of the dingy living room. The irritation of the futon is cast away. You're thrown about in nothingness and the ache for Dirk, for attention, is forgotten. You stay somewhere in between yourself and nothingness and the only thing to tie you down is Dirk. His breathing heavy, and loud as he speeds his hips. The slam of his weight makes you dizzy all over again. You sink your hands into his golden hair softly, lips moving, making words you can't hear. He looks down at you. He looks down and those eyes are the last piece in your destruction, you'll swear on that six ways to Sunday.  
You wonder what you did to deserve that look. 

The splutter of warmth inside you signals the end. The soft cry of your name is what pulls you back down. Closed eyes, you're deprived of your candlelight, but the thin purple veins on his eyelids are beautiful and you press soft kisses to them. He's moving, languidly inside you, and slowly stops. The sated feeling settles between you and the smell of sweat and sex hits you for the first time. As he pulls out of you the stickiness between your legs in realized but it's a reminder of how you're mixed with him. So you smile, and hug him tighter. The peace still keeping you afloat, and your life jacket is Dirk. There's a shift, and Dirk's warm body is beside yours, your head pressed to his chest. The sweat is sticky and your hair is gross, but his heart is beating in your ear.  
You wonder how long you can keep listening.


End file.
